


When It Don't Come Easy

by sans_souci2



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little twist on how 2.4 might have played out because I was dying for some heavy duty Steve Whump!</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Don't Come Easy

“Joe White.”

“Hey is McGarrett with you?”

“Danny?”

“Yeah it’s me, you know where Steve is?”

“No. I thought he was heading back with you.”

“Shit.”

“I take it he’s not there?”

“Not only is he not here, he’s not picking up his phone.”

“That’s not like Steve.”

“Tell me about it. I swear, something’s not right.”

When he looks back on the conversation, Danny will remember how relieved he was that Joe didn’t disagree with him and then, how worried he was when he offered what he did.

“Listen, Max and I are finished up here. How about I have him drop me off at the dock and I’ll start looking for him-you can meet me there?”

_______~_______

 

After he answers that he's on his way and before Joe responds, Danny’s already flipped his phone shut and is heading out into the bullpen.

Chin eyes him, more puzzled than worried, “So, what did White say?”

“He said he thought Steve was on his way back here, just like we did. I’m going to meet him down at the dock and try to figure out what the hell’s going on.”

“You want me to go with?”

“No. I want you here in case Steve checks in or anyone calls with info.”

“Fine. But stay calm, brah. We have no reason to believe he didn’t just take off for one of his crazy smoothies or veggie wraps.”

“Steve always answers his phone.”

“Okay but still- we don’t know that there’s a problem. Let’s think positive.”

“You, my friend, can think positive. I happen to know my partner well enough to know that this here-this is not good.”  
_______~_______

 

Steve feels achy when he gets in his truck but tells himself it’s just because he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since that morning. He stops at Marie’s Café before he gets on the H-2 but pretty much knows it’s a bad idea as soon as the familiar aroma of onions and garlic hits him. Once he’s back in his truck, after one bite, he lays his turkey wrap on the seat and settles for sips of water. He’s driving a little faster than he should and trying to keep his mind focused on what the skeleton in the ambulance might mean instead of how crappy he feels when it hits him. Big and bold and like nobody’s business, pain suddenly wraps a steel claw around his gut and squeezes so hard he gasps. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. He holds his breath and bears down against it and honestly wonders if he can keep driving.

What the hell?

The pain’s so bad that beads of sweat instantly dot his forehead and upper lip. He feels cold and clammy and like he’s got the worst case of the flu, ever. A mile later a grinding ache sets up shop in his left shoulder.

A niggling voice in the back of his mind asks him to consider a possible explanation but he dismisses it angrily.

There’s no way.

After another few minutes of gritting it out, his mouth fills with saliva. Now that’s one that even he can’t ignore-he knows his body and knows what’s coming. He barely makes it to the shoulder of the road and shoves his door open when the vomiting starts. At first he stands there hanging on to the door as he retches but his legs feel like they’re about to give out so he drops down on his hands and knees. He hears his phone and feels it vibrating but there’s no way he can answer. He’s still dry heaving but since cars are speeding by not five feet from him, he can't stay put. Gravel bites into his hands and his shoulder is killing him but he manages to crawl around around his truck and make it to the guard-rail before he drops down on his side.

What in God's name is happening?

The way his fingers are numb and his muscles feel so weak, screams of some kind of neuromuscular agent but when could he possibly have been exposed? He finally gets his phone out of his pocket and tries to punch in 911 but his fingers are too numb to do the job and the keypad keeps going out of focus. He doesn’t hear the car pull up behind his truck so the sight of a very strong, very tan, flip-flop-wearing guy suddenly coming towards him gets a bleary double take.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong- you chug a few too many at lunch?”

“Call 911...ple…ase.”

“For real? What’s up man?”

“I don’t know…ple…ase…just call.”

“Sure, brah.” The surfer bends down for a closer look, then, immediately takes his phone out, "you know, you don't look so good."

_________~__________

 

Danny and Joe don’t turn up anything at the dock so they decide to drive the route they’re pretty sure Steve would have taken back to Five-0. Danny’s the first to see the blue pick-up truck on the side of the road. It’s about 200 feet ahead and there’s an ambulance in front of it and a jeep with a surfboard on the roof behind it.

“Shit! That’s Steve’s!” he screams as he slices across two lanes of traffic to get to the shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Joe asks, frowning. He’ll admit the blue pick up truck looks familiar but there have to be hundreds of trucks like that on the island.

Danny’s out of the car before Joe has his seat belt unfastened. He runs around to the back of the ambulance, braced for God knows what. For a split second he's hopeful. Two EMT’s are crouched on either side of a stretcher, just about to raise it and his view of who's on the stretcher is blocked. One of them counts, “One, two, three.” On three they extend the stretcher’s legs and stand and all of a sudden he's staring at his partner laying there ashen faced and grimacing like he’s been shot, or worse. So much for hope.

“What happened to him!”

The paramedics are fastening a strap across Steve’s chest and don't answer right away.

"Somebody talk to me!" Danny screams.

The surfer who's been looking on from where he's leaning against the guard rail hurries over, “Looks like the dude might have the bends,”

“The bends?”

One of the paramedics finally notices Danny, “You know this man?”

“Yeah I know him. I’m his partner- Five-0,” Danny gestures toward the badge on his belt, then stares incredulously at Steve, still not believing what he’s seeing, "The bends?"

“We don’t know for sure but his symptoms and the fact he dove a few hours ago, fit the profile.”

Danny hurries towards the stretcher and leans in close, cringing inwardly at how grey and pinched his face is. “Hey pal, now what the hell kind of trouble did you get yourself into?” It’s supposed to be his classic 'I'm fed up with your antics' voice but it sounds the way he feels-scared as shit.

“Don’t …know.” is all Steve can choke out. He’s grimacing and shifting and shaking his head back and forth and it doesn’t take any expertise to see that he’s in a world of pain.

"Can't you give him something?"

"We just did."

Joe who's been listening from a few feet away approaches one of the paramedics, “I’m Lt. Commander White," He nods at Steve, "This is Lt. Commander McGarrett. He and I dove a wreck just east of Ohua this morning. What can you tell me?”

“Apparently your colleague pulled over and was in the middle of losing his lunch when another driver stopped to offer help.” The paramedic nods at the surfer. "We got here about ten minutes ago and from what I can get out of your friend, he’s got abdominal pain, diffuse joint pain, nausea and syncopy. His vital signs are all over the place-rapid heart rate, elevated blood pressure-it was the strangest presentation but then he mentioned diving earlier today and it all started to make sense.”

About a million versions of no fucking way flash across Joe’s face. He walks up to the stretcher and leans down just like Danny had done a minute ago, “Steve, can you talk?” He lays a head on Steve’s chest and squeezes gently.

Steve opens his eyes and winces. It honestly looks like he’d give anything to pass out.

“I need to be sure what we’re dealing with here, son. This man tells me your gut hurts?”

He nods with a grimace.

“Is it bad?”

He nods again.

“Where else are you hurting?”

“Shoul…der, and … knee.”

“Anything else?”

“Chest. Hurts…to...breathe.”

“I would have said it was impossible but you look and sound like a textbook case of the God damn bends.” Joe turns to the paramedic, “This man needs to be in a facility with a hyperbaric chamber- I know they have one at the Naval Hospital at Pearl, but that’s on the other side of the island.”

“There’s one at Hawaii Medical Center and one at University of Hawaii. HMC is closer”

“Then that’s where we need to go. He should be on 100% O2 while he’s in route with an IV running wide open-dehydration could be what set him for this.”

“You got it. You a doctor?”

“No. I’m a Navy SEAL instructor.”

“You want to ride along?”

Danny is suddenly in between the two of them, “Wait a God damn minute. Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on!”

“Go ahead and get him loaded-I’ll be right there,” Joe tells the paramedic as he turns to Danny, “Steve looks like he’s got the bends -he needs treatment fast.”

“But he was fine when you guys came up.”

“I know. Symptoms often show up after re-surfacing-it looks like that’s what’s happening."

"What's making him hurt like that?"

"Nitrogen bubbles can form in blood and joints- even in spinal fluid and once they do, they exert pressure which causes pain. The only way to treat it is with hyperbaric oxygen therapy. We've got to get Steve into a chamber, fast. I want to go with him to be sure there's no dicking around-the quicker he's treated the better the prognosis. Can you call for someone to get his truck and then meet us at the hospital?”

“Yeah, yeah-I can do that but wait a minute, why aren’t you sick? You did the exact same dive.”

“I don’t know. By all rights Steve shouldn’t be sick, either, we did everything by the book.”

Danny stares as Steve is loaded into the back of the ambulance and shakes his head, “I swear to God the guy can’t catch a fucking break.” He bites his lip after he says it, embarrassed that his eyes are welling up.

"Look Danny, he'll be okay. We’ve got to get going, though.” Joe gives Danny’s arm a firm squeeze, “You drive safe, you hear me?”

“Yeah.” Danny says softly, then raising his voice as he runs a hand over Steve's forehead, “This here, Steven? This is the last time you scare the shit out me. You hear?”

There’s no answer as the stretcher is lifted into the ambulance and Joe and the paramedic jump in after it. Danny stands numbly watching them pull out onto the highway -the siren’s screaming so loudly it should be hurting his ears but he barely hears it.

“So is that dude a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine.”

“Sure hope he’s okay, brah-looks like he was hurting big time.”

Danny nods then sprints towards his car.

Why in God’s name is yet another shit storm raining down on McGarrett?

Any why does it he care so damn much about him that it hurts?

______~______

 

“So you’re back,” Danny says, trying his best to sound casual and not think about what he just heard when they roll Steve’s stretcher through the door. He’s been gone for over ten hours and Danny’s waited out the last three of them in the recliner next to his empty bed. Before that it was Joe in the chair. It’s a familiar tag-team kind of thing they’ve been doing for three days now. “So did you miss me?”

The weak smile Steve gives him comes with blood shot, exhausted eyes but at least he’s trying to play along. “Yeah,” he says before turning his head and closing his eyes.

Danny’s not surprised he's wiped out.

This dive was ten hours- twice as long as the other four. That means that in three days Steve’s spent over thirty hours in a ten foot by six foot chamber, breathing mostly 100 % oxygen at a pressure 2.5 times sea level. Yeah there's been an a nurse in there with him and yeah they give him good drugs but Danny knows from what Joe’s told him that it’s no cake walk- that the chamber is hot and noisy and can disagree with the human body in all kinds of ways-like the one Steve's doctor just told him about. He'll get to that later. Right now he just wants Steve settled and everyone else out of the room.

Steve won't talk until they get him off the stretcher and back in bed-Danny knows that by now and gets out of the way, letting the techs do their thing while he slinks back against the wall so Steve can’t see that he’s watching.

The guy hates being helped off the stretcher so much that he makes a lunge for the bed as soon as the stretcher’s railing is lowered. Of course, because he’s weak and sore and tethered to an IV, he barely makes it and they have to grab the sheet under him and heave him the rest of the way. And of course that means his gown, which he also hates, rides up and his privates are hanging out there in the breeze.

Danny winces.

As soon as Steve’s bits and pieces are covered up and the stretcher is rolled out in the hallway, he thanks the techs and closes the door. Then he goes back over to the bed, hoping like hell that this last dive did the trick.

First impressions aren’t particularly positive.

It’s not that Steve looks like he’s in acute pain-it’s just that he’s shifting and squirming and frowning and looking all kinds of uncomfortable. Danny wants to run his hand over his forehead but he doesn’t. What he does is lean on the bed railing and stare into those incredible blue grey eyes and try to sound nonchalant, “So how you doing, buddy?”

“I’m…okay.”

“You’re okay?”

The blue-greys blink and he's got this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around their owner and hug some sense into him but that's going to have to wait. “Your doc checked in a few minutes before you got here so I know about your eardrum.” He waits a minute, studying Steve's face, “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

If Danny had a couple hundred dollars for every time Steve did that thing he just did where he looks at him like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about and shrugs, he’d have a hell of a lot more in the bank than he does.

“It wasn’t a big deal," Steve huffs. "They told me it might happen.” He swallows deliberately because there’s a weird, itchy, feeling in his ears. “They said I shouldn’t have any hearing loss.” He shrugs again, “At least I got to finish the dive.”

“Edwards said they had to depressurize when it happened and let someone come in and stick a tube in your other eardrum so you could keep going?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah? Just, yeah?

“Gracie got tubes in her ears when she was four."

“Really?”

Steve presses back against the pillows stacked behind him. He doesn’t say anything but Danny knows that he knows he’s been made. “Yeah. They had to put her to sleep to do it and kept her knocked out for a couple of hours afterwards.”

Steve shrugs, “Kids are different.”

“No Steven. You are different.”

No response.

“She has to wear special ear plugs when she takes a shower or swims-they tell you anything about that?”

“The guy said something about it,” He shrugs again, "I’m sure I’ll be all right.”

“Jesus, Steve! I’m honestly not sure how you’ve survived to this point in time given your total refusal to listen to any and all medical advice that’s ever directed your way.”

Steve just ignores him and shifts under the covers. He still can't seem to get comfortable but at least what Danny’s seeing is a hell of a lot more bearable kind of uncomfortable than the earlier versions that played out in this room. This is more of a I hate being here, I hate feeling shitty and I hate being a patient, kind of thing. It’s a kind of thing Danny actually finds endearing. He reaches down and gives Steve’s shoulder a squeeze, “Relax, pal. The worst is over for today; it’s jello and bouillon time for you.”

Steve finally makes eye contact for more than a second and says softly, “Thank God.”

“So, you're glad it's over, huh? Were you going stir crazy in there?”

“Not really. They gave me… something. I slept on and off.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that. I was worried sick you were losing your mind in there. So how do you feel- did ten hours do the trick like they thought it would?”

It’s like Steve takes inventory before he answers. He stretches his legs then his arms then takes a deep breath- for the first time, without wincing. “Yeah…I think it did. I think I can go now.”

“Go now? Go where?”

“Home.”

“Home?” Danny sputters, “Oh that’s rich. Home?”

“Why are you…laughing? Edwards said I needed to be here… until my symptoms resolved. I think they’re…resolved.”

“And your eardrum’s ruptured and you’ve been flat on your back and barely had anything to eat or drink for three days. Call me crazy but I vote for hanging around for a while just to be sure this upswing you’re claiming is going to stick around.”

“Trust me, it is Danny. I’ve spent what…thirty hours in that damn chamber? That's got to be enough.”

“I sure hope it is and I’m glad you feel better, really I am. Let’s just be a little cautious, okay? You did scare the living hell out of me just a few days ago, you know? I’m not up for any more medical dramas out of you.”

“Don't worry…I’m not planning on staging any.”

“Good, because that little scene out on the highway? That shaved a good two or three years off of my life expectancy.”

“Really?”

The sleepy little look Steve gives him makes it hard to concentrate.

"I didn't know you cared."

"You didn’t know, my ass. Who was it who knew to come looking for you and who was it who’s slept in that lousy recliner over there for the last three nights?”

Steve gives him a sheepish little smile, “Have I told you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me?”

“Maybe. I can’t remember. Go ahead, tell me again-I like hearing it.”

The crazy lug pulls on the bedside rails until he’s sitting up then reaches over and squeezes Danny's hand, “I really do appreciate it.” He glances down at his lap then back up again, “And I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass.”

“No apologies needed. It’s not like this one was your fault, anyway.”

“Oh but the infection was?”

“Don’t even get me started Mr. I’m Fine/104’ Fever.”

“It was 103.”

“Which is 104, rectally.”

“What?” Steve rears back, utterly disgusted.

“You heard me.”

Steve shakes his head and rolls over, pulling the covers nearly up over his head.

“Does that mean this conversation is over?”

“I’m tired.”

“You just said you slept on and off during the dive?”

“I’m still tired.”

“All the more reason to stay put a little longer.”

________~__________

 

Three days ago.

“You get this man into a damn chamber in the next five minutes or you’re looking at a malpractice suite.”

You go, Joe. Danny says to himself as he watches White go ballistic. With Steve laying on a stretcher in so much pain he doesn't even know his name, the way White was kicking ass and taking names was the only good thing happening in the slow moving, nothing’s worth getting excited about, ER they’d just rushed into.

It had only taken a few minutes of slow moving before Joe shifted into his don’t give me any excuses mode.

Danny had to say- it was damn scary.

And damn effective.

A Navy doc had already called the doctor taking care of Steve and chewed him a new ass hole. Joe had followed up by explaining to Steve's doc that if he didn’t get Steve in a chamber in the next few minutes his chances of continuing to practice medicine anywhere in the United States were slim to none. Security was never called; voices were never raised. Steve was just suddenly rushed down to the hyperbaric unit in the basement of the hospital so fast Danny had to jog to keep up. It would take hours before he learned the real reason White had been so adamant they get Steve in a chamber right away. He just thought it was about easing the incredible pain Steve was in.

It was probably better that he didn’t know the real reason.

_____________~__________________

After the first dive…

“You okay, Son?”

“I’m…good.”

“You gave us quite a scare.”

“I’m ok…ay.”

“You sure?”

As groggy as he is, Steve tries hard to make sense of how worried Joe looks. It comes back to him slowly and in fits and starts. Suddenly the deep lines on Joe’s face make sense. “This is differen’ than wha' happened with Thompson…I’m gonna…be fine.”

Joe shakes his head, “I wasn’t sure there for a while; they were taking so God damn long to get you in the chamber.”

“Uh hello. Care to clue me in gentlemen?”

“Hey…Dan…no.” Steve’s speech is slurred thanks to morphine and the fact he’s only had one dive, which isn’t enough to get rid of all the nitrogen bubbles wrecking havoc in his nervous system. The good news is that it was enough to stave off the most serious complications he could have run into.

“Hey yourself.” Danny’s lip trembles as he says it. He doesn’t care that Joe sees it. “You done with scaring the shit out of me?”

“I sure…hope so.” Steve gives Danny a weak smile but then a coughing fit suddenly blindsides him and bends him over with frightening force. It’s a thick cough and his nurse rushes in and has an emesis basin under his chin just in time. The phlegm he brings up is blood tinged and scares the hell out of Joe and Danny. The nurse seems to take it in stride though, telling Steve it's okay and after wiping his mouth off, switches his nasal canula for a oxygen mask. Minutes later a doctor comes in and after listening to Steve's lungs, confirms what the nurse said- decompression illness can mess with the lungs big time. Steve's given something for the cough and more morphine and in a short time, drifts off to sleep. Not at all reassured and not willing to leave his side, Joe and Danny settle into chairs on either side of his bed. After Danny kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie, he turns to Joe, "So, tell me. What was Steve talking about- who was Thompson?”

Joe meets his gaze and then looks down at his hands. It's a few seconds before he takes a deep breath and looks up. When he does, his expression is grim “Lawrence Thompson was the only SEAL candidate who ever died on my watch.”  
______~_______

 

United States Navy  
Classified Incident Report-Active Service Fatality

05/09/00

Lt .Lawrence Thompson, after having successfully passed all basic underwater diving competencies, complained of dizziness and joint pain upon ascending from a 65 foot dive during a BUD/S class 203 training exercise on 04/19/1999. At 15:45 PST Lt. Thompson was taken to Branch Medical Center where he was given an IV fluid bolus and placed on 100% oxygen via face mask before being evacuated by ambulance to Naval Medical Center, San Diego for recompression. In route to NMC, Lt.Thompson exhibited profound mental status changes, became combative and lost consciousness. Despite aggressive attempts to resuscitate him at 17:00 hours he was declared dead. A subsequent autopsy established the cause of death as cerebral embolism secondary to decompression illness.

An investigation into the dive found that that all safety protocols as prescribed in the US Navy Diving Manual-Revision 4 (Jan.1999) had been followed. Inspection of Lt. Thompson’s diving equipment revealed no abnormalities. The consensus of the investigating panel of officers was that exhaustion and intensive exercise prior to the dive may have predisposed Lt. Thompson to decompression illness. At the panel’s recommendation, all subsequent dives by BUD/S candidates will be conducted as the first activity of the day and only after a minimum of four hours of sleep.  
______~________

“So when you were chewing that doc a new one in the ER you were thinking the same thing could happen to Steve?”

“I couldn’t help it. It's crazy-when we first pulled over I barely believed he even had decompression illness but then his symptoms matched up and on the way to the hospital he told me he’d done a seven mile run in the morning. When I pressed, he admitted he might not have rehydrated all that well. The similarity to Thompson’s situation was too close for comfort. Then, just a few minutes from the hospital he started becoming confused-you saw the way he was when you got to the ER. That’s when I went into my less than cordial mode with those docs.”

“Well I’m glad as hell you did.” Danny shook his head, “Our friend might have nine lives but he’s going through them at a fast clip these last few weeks.”

“That he is. He’s tough as nails though, Danny, I’d say you can expect him to stick around and drive you crazy for a long long time.”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

Joe leans back, studying Danny, “You two have very special relationship, don’t you?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“I mean it extends beyond work.”

It was kind of a statement and a question; Danny's happy to answer the question. “Yeah. We’ve become good friends. We've been through some tough times together. Despite how much we aggravate each other," he stops and looks up at the ceiling, "we care about each other and we’ve got each other’s back like nobody’s business." He locks eyes with Joe, "Yeah, I guess you could say we’ve got a close relationship.”

Nothing he's just heard seems to concern White, in fact, he smiles. “Well, from what I see, it looks like a very good thing for both of you. First time you called me I could hear it in your voice- how important he was to you.”

“And to think I was this close to bailing out on him and chasing my ex wife back to New Jersey.”

“From what I hear she dangled some pretty hard to say no to bait in front of you?”

“That she did. I’m glad as hell she was wrong about me being the Papa. Seeing Steve through that whole prison thing and then through that infection really helped me get my head straight.”

“In what way?”

For some reason Danny didn’t feel like he had to hold back, “Well lets just say I’m a lot clearer about who really matters in my life.”

“Good for you, son. You keep yourself focused on that-no matter how frustrating a certain naval officer we both know can be.”

“Oh that I will, trust me.”

______________________~____________________

“See how nice this worked out? You spent a couple more days getting back on your feet and now you’re on your way home and everything is hunky dory.”

“Everything is not hunky dory, Danny-I’m in a damn wheel chair being treated like an invalid.”

The volunteer pushing Steve’s wheelchair shares an eye roll with Danny as they wait for the elevator.

“They’re just being cautious, Steven, after all it was you, wasn’t it, who took that header on the way to the can?”

“That was last night.”

“Which was only ten hours ago-trust me, the wheel chair’s a good idea as is the couch as soon as I get you home.”

“Don’t tell me you’re turning back into the private duty nurse from hell again.”

“You didn’t like the way I nursed you back to health after you let that knife wound get infected?” The volunteer’s eyes widen. This time the look she flashes Danny says ‘For real?’

“I just didn’t like being treated like a five year old.”

“I don’t know, you seemed to like my pancakes, and my lasagna and my back rubs.”

Steve honestly looks like the poster boy for Petulance International, “Okay, your cooking, I liked. And the back rubs were…nice. I just don’t like be treated like Grace, okay?”

Walking along on the other side of Steve with her hand firmly holding onto the armrest of his chair, Grace takes offense, “I like the way Daddy treats me, Uncle Steve.”

“I know you do, sweetie and your Dad treats you just right. It’s just that I’m a lot older than you.”

“But you make bad decisions, so Daddy has to do what he does.”

“Where do you get that? I do not make bad decisions!”

“You don’t take good care of yourself. Look,” she waves a hand a the expansive lobby they’re passing through, “This is the second time you’ve been in the hospital this month.”

Danny’s covers his mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Do you feed her these lines?”

“No sir. The child is just extremely perceptive.”

“I can’t believe it. I am so screwed.”

“No you’re not. You the luckiest goof on this whole island. You're about to get 24/7 free TLC. I’ve already stocked your refrigerator and stowed my things in your guest room. Gracie even helped me fix your place up, didn’t you monkey?”

“Uh-huh. I put a pillow and a blanket on the couch downstairs and I put a drawing I made of you and me and daddy on the refrigerator.”

“That’s very nice of you, Grace. Thank you.” At least for now, the wind seems to go out of Steve’s grousing.

“Hey brah, ready to blow this joint?”

Kamekona suddenly dwarfs all three of them. A second later Chin and Kono appear.

“Good to see you, Steve.”

“How’s it, boss?”

“It’s... good.” Steve says but he's frowning as he looks down at the volunteer flipping up the foot rests on his wheel chair. When Danny offers a hand to help him stand up, he takes it. Standing there in front of the hospital he takes a deep breath of the fresh morning air and his frown melts into a reluctant smile. "It's real good.” He nods as he says it, his smile growing wider as he takes in all the smiling faces focused on him. "Yeah, it's real good."

“Steven here,” Danny quips as he helps him into the car, “was just complaining about having me as his personal nurse again but we all know that’s a lot of pooey.”

There’s a consensus of agreement in the form of laughter from just about everyone. After Danny makes sure Grace’s seatbelt is good and closes her door, he ducks his head in Steve’s window, “Don’t worry babe, you're going to love the way I take care of you.” He stands up, eyes still locked on Steve, “Like someone else I know once said, “You and I are going to get along great.”


End file.
